Brielle's POV
I didn’t sleep.
Again.
There was too much noise behind my eyes and not enough warmth in my bed. And even if Jake had knocked—he didn’t—I wasn’t sure I would’ve opened the door.
By the time the sun rose, I was already dressed, braid tight, boots laced, heart heavier than I’d admit.
Silvermoon felt different now.
Not loud. Not violent.
Just... off.
Like the whole pack was walking on eggshells, and I was the one who’d scattered them.
I got back to my quarters after sunrise patrol, boots caked with frost, braid half undone, still replaying Maera’s words from yesterday.
“We want to know where Silvermoon stands… before someone else defines it for us.”
I didn’t notice the carving at first.
Not until I reached for the door handle.
It was subtle. Just above the brass—sla
